Dean Unraveled
by RavenWillDragomir
Summary: Dean has to fight for not only his life, but his sanity over and over again, as if someone is playing with him for fun. With his little brother and his best friend Castiel continously trying to save him, Dean's life is going to Hell. Maybe literally, if all this doesn't end soon.


"AGH! Go to hell," the hunter spat blood onto the floor, managing a smile through teeth gritted in pain. The demon rolled its eyes, leaning down to examine her captive. The famous Dean Winchester was kneeling on the hardwood floor of her living room, glaring up at her with red hot anger in his eyes. With a nod to her guards she turned her back and walked a few paces away, smiling to herself as she heard him groan with pain. She spun back to face them, watching as one guard yanked his face up by his hair, and the other slammed his foot into the hunter's head. He flew sideways an impressive number of feet, almost hitting the wall before coming to a stop. Slowly he raised himself onto all fours, only to receive a blow so hard that his head rebounded against the wall. He pushed himself back to his knees, having already learned the hard way that standing was not an option.

"Little baby boy ready to talk yet?" She stuck out her bottom lip, pursing her cherry red mouth into a playful pout. Again he raised his chin to look at her, a deep new gash along his cheek bone draining the colour from his face. He set his jaw defiantly, fixing her with a steely gaze.

"I ain't telling you squat, you black eyed bitch." It was no less than she had expected. Her inside men had informed her he had frequented Hell and even Purgatory, known so many tortures the average hunters could only dream of. She knew more. With a quick nod of consent from her, the blonde guard whipped out his gun, took aim, and shot the captive through the shoulder.

"Dammit!" He yelled, looking down to see a rose blossoming on the front of his shirt. "What the fuckin' hell was that," he growled, holding a hand up to the right side of his chest.

"Dean, you didn't think I would just _kill _you, did you?" She tutted like a disappointed mother hen, shaking her head. "That would ruin all the fun, now," Rose continued, pacing back and forth in front of the small group. The room was ornately decorated, with thick persian rugs and an impressive crystal chandelier throwing beads of light around the room. The curtains were drawn, her mansion hidden in the middle of nowhere in the densest part of the forest, where no one would hear the screams.

The Winchester was trying to keep pressure on his wound. Rose looked at him with disdain, noting the blood spattered floor.

"You're making a mess," she said coldly, focusing her attention on his guards. "Take him downstairs…" she paused. "I think room two will suit him. Please see to it that he is...convinced, to talk." She smiled maliciously as they dragged him away, settling herself in an armchair and opening her book. His screams would make nice background music.

They dragged him down more flights of stairs than he dared count, not stopping long enough to let him get to his feet. Finally they reached the last level, a hallway dimly lit by orange light, a door set into each side of the dark stone walls, and one at the very end of the hall. The dark haired one opened the door, and all three of them entered. The room was made of the same damp stone as the hallway, with one light dimly illuminating it. Chains hung from the ceiling, and on the far wall, dark shackles lay waiting.

"Really? You've got a frickin' torture chamber?" He snarled, silenced seconds later by a kick to his diaphragm. Together the guards lifted him up, clamping the metal cuffs around his wrists, ankles, and neck. He could feel moisture seeping through his shirt from the wall, could hear the steady drip of water falling from the ceiling onto the floor.

"Well ain't this cozy," he muttered, scanning for exits fruitlessly. One of the guards grabbed his shirt, ripping it away and tossing it into the far corner. "Whoa, don't you boys think we should be on a first name basis first?" The demon ignored him, leaving the room. Dean could hear another door open and close. The remaining dark haired demon made towards him, stopping in front of him and pulling out an gruesomely carved goblet. Without a word, he held it to the hunter's bullet wound, letting the blood spill in. The demon started muttering in Latin, and the blood started to bubble.

"What do you want, you pathetic-" Crowley's voice came through the goblet, annoyed.

"My lord, Dean Winchester has been taken captive." There was a pause.

"Dean?"

"What the hell is goin' on, Crowley," he hissed.

"Bollocks," the King of Hell muttered. "This spineless twit is trying to pull an Abbadon, and unfortunately she has quite a few followers."

"Why the hell do they want me?"

"They think you've got info on me, you mindless idiot. We're quite tight."

"No we aren't," the hunter growled.

"Look, don't tell them anything, and don't give away my inside man," the demon hissed urgently. "I'll track down moose and Cas to come get you, just hang on." The call ended, and the demon hastily stashed away the goblet as his partner returned. In it's hand it carried a metal branding iron, burning red hot at the end.

"You've gotta be frickin' kiddin' me," Dean groaned, his muscles tensing as it drew nearer. In response, the demon lowered the iron to skin, watching his victim writhe in pain, relishing the sizzle of burning flesh.

Sam paced back and forth, stopping in front of Cas.

"This is Dean we're talking about, he would have called." The angel grimaced.

"I know, Sam, I just don't know who or where they could have taken him. For what purpose?" The younger Winchester returned to pacing.

"Hundreds of reasons! Revenge, fear, I mean, the guy was a demon and now he's a human, maybe other demons are scared we can turn them human? Then there's the Mark of Cain, and," he ran his fingers through his hair, "pretty much everyone hates him, I have no clue." The older hunter had been missing for nearly twenty four hours, and his brother seemed about ready to explode.

"This isn't going to help him," Castiel said darkly. The hunter opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by a loud rapping at the front door. Both heads snapped around to stare at it, and Sam reached for his gun instinctively. "Wait, it's Crowley," the angel held up a hand to stop him. Confused, the hunter took the steps two at a time, unlocking and yanking open the door.

"What do you want-" the demon pushed past him, glancing around. He descended the stairs, closely followed by Sam, who was watching his every move.

"Ello Moose," he greeted, coming to stand near the angel. "I'm sure you've noticed that your brother is missing." The Winchesters' face contorted with rage.

"What the hell have you-" again he was cut short.

"You really will never learn. It wasn't ME, idiot. He's been taken by a demon by the name of Rose." Castiel's brow furrowed. "Apparently Abbadon wasn't message enough for her, because she's decided to take over. Bloody demons," he growled. "She's one of the oldest demons, and she's got a lot of followers."

"How do you know this, and besides, why does she want Dean?" Sam tossed his hair out of his eyes, crossing his arms.

"My inside man reported his capture a few hours ago. Apparently they're torturing him for information about _me,_" the King of Hell snarled. Sam stiffened.

"Torturing? What the hell took you so long, jackass, he could die!"

"I was tied up at the time, this is the soonest I could get away. And he won't die, she's too smart for that, unfortunately. She won't kill him until she gets what she needs. There are many ways to cause pain without death," he paused, looking between their pale faces and stopping himself. "Anyways, I thought we might get him out."

"Why would _you _care?" Crowley rolled his eyes.

"Oh, I don't know Moose, because HE HAS INFORMATION ABOUT ME?" He yelled. The angel shot him a look that said, 'we need his help.'

"Fine," he agreed unwillingly. "But you're coming with."

"Mmphguur," he groaned, his chest heaving as the demon pulled away. His torso was covered in blood, his jeans splattered with it. The bloody bullet was on the floor from where the demon had pulled it out, and long burns slashed across his chest.

"Ready to talk, Dean?" Rose opened the door, smiling sweetly at him. She whispered something to the two demons, who nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind them.

"Go back to hell," he growled, the muscles in his arms rippling as he balled his hands into fists. She tutted, moving closer to look up at him, like a bug pinned to her display.

"You really are a stubborn one," she pouted, taking his chin in her hand to examine his face more closely. Dark bruising covered one eye, his lip was split and the deep wound across his cheek had leaked crimson blood down his face and neck. She dug one of her manicured red nails into his jaw, blood welling up. "But see, I'm also pretty stubborn, when I want something," she whispered, leaning close and staring into his green eyes. He spat in her face in response, making her step backwards. Angrily she grabbed a rag and swiped it across her face, scowling. "Bad move, Winchester," she hissed, turning her back and stalking to the table. She picked up a serrated blade with jagged teeth, and stuck something else in her pocket, moving back over to him. She pressed the tip of the knife into his shoulder and dragged it along his arm up to the metal cuff. He grunted in pain and ground his teeth, not letting a noise escape his lips. She grinned, reaching into her pocket, pulling out a metal device and waving it in front of his face. "You know what this is, Dean?" He thought it looked vaguely familiar, but couldn't put his finger on it. "It's like a clamp," she said happily. "It's used in surgery to open the cut so the doctors can see inside," she explained, smiling as his eyes lit up with recognition. It was a circle with a gap in the top. On either side of the gap the metal band had a pedal, the piece of metal that went inside the wound to pull it open. She slipped it around his upper arm, pushing the clamp inside the cut she had made and pulling the flaps of skin open. Blood gushed from the wound onto his arm and her hands, dripping onto the floor as his arm convulsed and he fought to suppress his yells. She wiped the blood off her hands with the towel, going back over to her tray of instruments and picking up a bottle.

"That looks nasty, we should wash it out," she murmured, unscrewing the cap and pouring the liquid into his arm.

"Aghh!" He screamed, quivering as diluted blood gushed from his arm and onto the floor. She peered more closely at the bottle.

"Rubbing alcohol. Hm," she glanced at him. "Well, you won't get an infection!" She hummed happily, pouring more of it over his chest, grinning as he fought to stay silent, his chest heaving, his breath coming in short pained gasps. He was as pale as the dead, barely managing to stay conscious from blood loss. She took his head in her hands, digging her nails in to get his attention. "You don't get to quit on me now, Winchester, I'm just starting to have some fun." Quickly she left the room, returning minutes later with a paper sack. She set it by the table, pulling out a blood bag and trotting over to him.

"You've got to be fuckin' kiddin' me," he groaned. She stuck the needle into his good arm, hooking the bag on a nail in the wall above his head. She smiled, looking pleased with herself.

"Wouldn't want you passing out and missing all the fun, would we?" She stepped around the pool of blood on the floor, pushing the table over closer to him and picking up a small silver hammer. "I'm going to ask you again, Dean, tell me what you know about Crowley." Rose peered at him closely, her eyes narrowed. The hunter glared at her, hatred blazing in his eyes.

"You better hope I don' get outta here alive, 'cause if I do I'll come for you," he muttered darkly. She merely smiled at him, shrugging and examining his arm.

"Whatever you say, dear," she shook her head slightly, bending to peer at his abdomen. The demon ran her finger down a whip wound that ran from his shoulder to his hip, smiling when she felt him shudder. Her demons had done a number on him, using the whip and hot poker to draw long angry slashes across his hide. "Ah, perfect," she pressed a finger into his bruised ribs, positioning the hammer so it angled up towards one. With a sharp 'crack!' She slammed the hammer into the bone, feeling it snap under her force. She drew the hammer back, then brought it back down on the break, causing him to moan. "Tell me what you know," she whispered in his ear, moving her instrument to his other side, preparing to strike again. His silence stretched on for what seemed like ages, until the same shooting pain came again, made its way up his chest and he bit his tongue to keep from crying out. "The pain isn't going to stop," she ran her fingers through his hair, dragging her nails down his spine before returning to his broken ribs. She pressed her fingers into the breaks, watching his expression with interest. A sudden bang from upstairs caused her to pause, staring up at the ceiling. "Damn," she hissed angrily, tossing the hammer onto the tray with a loud clatter. "I'll be back," she promised, whirling and stomping out of the room, locking the door behind her.

He sagged in relief, his chest rising and falling as he tried to suck in air in the least painful way possible. Pain washed over him in waves, lessening only to come back full force seconds later. He bit his tongue again to remain silent, focusing his attention on the cuff around his good arm. Dean twisted and pulled, yanked as hard as he could and scratched his fingernails over the metal in an attempt to get free.

"C'mon," he moaned, his face scrunched up as he tried to ignore his bodies protests. The bindings refused to budge. "Dammit!" He yelled, cursing profusely and hanging his head in defeat. All he wanted to do was sleep, and after fighting a while to stay conscious, he finally gave in.


End file.
